


Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Wizard

by StartledStarfish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Banter, Crossover, Gen, Horcruxes, Humor, Mild Language, Muggle John, Muggle Life, Sherlock hates magic, The Golden Trio, Wizard Sherlock, Wizarding World, pretending to be muggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StartledStarfish/pseuds/StartledStarfish
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione go on an expedition to 221B Baker Street in search a certain consulting detective to see if he can help them find Voldemort's horcruxes. Sherlock Holmes, a wizard who hates magic and the wizarding world, isn't so keen on the idea.





	Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this work is not affiliated with the Sherlock BBC or Harry Potter franchises.

“Sherlock Holmes…”

Harry looked up from the map he and Ron were examining on the floor of their tent. 

“What was that?” Ron asked Hermione, who was reading the muggle newspaper on the bed just a few seconds before. 

“There’s a wizard who… just might be able to help us find these horcruxes!” she said, showing them the article with a man in a long dark coat and an odd hat.

“Old Family Treasure Lost Forever Found by Detective Sherlock Holmes” read the headline.

…

“221B, this is it.” Said Hermione

“And your certain he’s a wizard?” asked Harry apprehensively, scanning the dark London street for any sign of danger.

“Positive, his name was in the Hogwarts records on the library. I only remembered because I used to read his muggle blog when I was young. You don’t forget a name like Sherlock Holmes.”

“Could one of you just knock on the bloody door already?” hissed Ron. “My ears are about to freeze off!”

Harry reached up the knocker on the door, giving three sharp knocks. In a moment an elderly woman answered the door, looking at them expectantly. “H-hello…we are looking for, er, Mister Holmes?” inquired Hermione nervously.

“Ah, of course! The boys are right upstairs, come in, come in!” the woman stepped aside letting them in. “Very frosty out tonight, my hip says a storm is coming!” she winked.

Harry smiled politely as they followed her up the steps. He gripped his wand tightly in his jacket pocket, scanning the building’s interior. It was old, but furnished in a homely manner. It remined him of somewhere… but he couldn’t quite place it. Was that a violin he heard playing?

They reached a landing and the woman knocked on a door where the music was coming from. “Boys, I’ve got some clients here to see you!” she said, turning the handle as she did so, ushering them inside. The door opened up into a flat decorated similarly, if not more cluttered, to the hall, with a large desk, sofa and chairs, and walls strewn with newspaper clippings and slips of paper. A fire place was at one wall with a skull on the mantlepiece and on the opposite what looked like a yellow smiley face painted on the wallpaper. 

There were two men in the room. One sitting at the desk working on a laptop, who looked up when they entered. He was middle aged, with blonde hair that was greying somewhat. The other stood facing one of the widows with his back to them. Even from behind it was obviously the man from the photograph in the muggle newspaper, Sherlock Holmes. Instead of the long coat, he wore a robe and pajama pants and his dark curls went wild without a hat to constrain them. It was him who was playing the violin and he seemed so distracted by the music that he didn’t notice the three of them entering the flat.

“Sherlock,” The man at the desk said somewhat loudly as he stood up. “We have clients.”

“No time, John,” said Holmes, still playing the instrument. He began to slowing turn around to look towards them. “I nearly have the Foster case solved, I can’t be distracted now or else--” The music stopped with a sharp screech as Holmes caught sight of them. All color drained from his already pale completion, but fear quickly turned to fury as his eyes darkened.

“Ah,” said Holmes, his eyes locked on Harry as a distasteful smile graced his lips. “I can say this visit comes as a surprise, and a greatly unwanted one as well, Mr. Potter. And so, I fear I must bid you good day,” he said coldly, gesturing in the direction of the door they had just entered.

“Mr. Holmes--” Hermione began but Holmes cut her off loudly.

“Ah, yes, a muggle-born—That’s what you call it, isn’t it? –On the run, but not because of your parentage, you’re accompanied by the most wanted man in the wizarding world. I will say I am impressed by your I.Q. as it would require bit a bit of digging to find the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’ in the records at Hogwarts, but on account of your non-magic-user parentage, you might have heard of some of my exploits through muggle tabloids and the like, which is why you and your friends are here to see me. Obviously, it was your idea because you are the first of this rag tag to attempt to converse with me when on all accounts it should be the figurehead with the lightning scar trophy. But then again, you are a bit of a loud mouth and enjoy every chance to flaunt your intelligence. Which is, I must say, impressive, but is not amazing or awe-inspiring to me in the slightest.” Holmes paused for the first time to take a breath, but didn’t take is eyes off of Hermione for a second. “Furthermore,” he continued. “I refuse to be of any assistance to you, and ask that you, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter, leave at once before I have a band of ‘death eaters’ sniffing at my door in search of you. Again, I bid you good day.”

With that Holmes promptly turned back around and continued playing the violin, slightly more aggressive than he had been before. There was a stunned silence, interrupted only by Ron’s quiet, “Bloody ‘ell,” before Hermione nudged him.

“Let’s go…” she whispered, turning to leave.

Before she even took a step, Harry grabbed her arm. “Mr. Holmes,” said Harry Loudly. Holmes ignored him and kept on playing his violin. “Mr. Holmes, please,” said Harry, earnestly. “We need your help.” Holmes carried on playing the violin, ignoring them entirely.

A throat cleared, it was the other man who had been typing on the laptop. Harry turned his attention to him but the man was looking at Holmes, not him. “Sherlock,” he said. When Holmes continued on ignoring him he repeated himself, louder this time. “Sherlock.” When the detective still made no indication that he had even heard, the man boomed, “SHERLOCK HOLMES WILL YOU PUT THAT BLOODY INSTRUMENT DOWN FOR ONE BLASTED SECOND!?!” causing all three of them to jump.

Sherlock played a violent note with as much ferocity as possible before finally whirling around to face them. “John, please stay out of this as you have absolutely no idea what is at stake here,” He scolded impatiently.

“That’s a good point, because if you remember, I can’t read your mind. So, tell me, who are these kids and how do you even know them?” said the man called John, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“I don’t know them, I know of them,” drawled Holmes irritably. “And if HE," he bellowed angrily, pointing his bow at Harry, “DOESN’T GET OUT AT ONCE HE WILL REGRET THE DAY HE EVER CAME LOOKING FOR SHERLOCK HOLMES!” Holmes looked wild, his eyes dancing with fury in the firelight. Just then the wind howled, following the threat ominously.

John sighed, “Alright, alright, calm yourself.” He then turned towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about him. Please have a seat, can I get you lot anything to drink?”

“John! Don’t be ridiculous!” exclaimed Holmes indignantly. 

“No, you don’t be ridiculous,” John pointed a finger at the detective warningly. “It’s a bloody blizzard out there, and from the looks of it, these kids haven’t been in a proper home in quite some time.” Harry looked down at himself realizing for the first time how much of a mess he looked, he hadn’t showered in weeks, and Ron and Hermione where just as filthy as he was. Come to think of it, they must look like terrible. 

“But—”

“No, you listen to me, Sherlock, I’m not about to throw a couple of teenagers out into the storm before they even have the chance to explain themselves. And unless they offer any sign of obvious threat to us, I don’t see why we can’t things over in a sensible manner over tea like decent human beings.” John turned back around towards them, “please, do have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll just be a moment while I make the tea.” He turned his attention back to Holmes, who was still sputtering angrily. “You, sit,” he ordered. “And—” he snatched the violin bow from the man’s hand, “don’t be rude.”

Much to Harry’s surprise, Holmes actually obeyed the command. He pouted crossing his arms over his chest, but flopped down into one of the arm chairs regardless. He pulled his knees to his chest and glared at the floor, much like a small child throwing a temper tantrum. Harry looked to Ron, but his friend only shrugged helplessly, just as confused. 

There was a very long, very awkward silence that set in once John left the room. Holmes was certainly not about to make conversation and Harry was fairly certain any attempts on their part to speak to him would set him off like an exploding bomb. 

After what felt like an eternity, John returned with tea, setting the try down on the piles of paper atop the coffee table. “Oh, by the way, sorry for the mess, the place always gets like this when he’s in the middle of a really tough case,” said John.

“Not so hard, I nearly solved it before I was rudely interrupted,” commented Holmes, perking up at the mention of a case.

“Also, sorry about him,” continued John. Having a seat in the arm chair not occupied by Holmes. “We’re still working on the manners thing, and when he’s struggling to solve a case he gets cranky.”

Holmes let out an agonized groan.

“Oh, don’t be a drama queen,” John scolded lightly having a sip of his tea. “Please help yourselves.” 

Harry felt Ron shift uncomfortably next to him. None of them really wanted to be the first to reach for the teapot, as Holmes was staring them down, menacingly daring them to even try to accept the tea. Finally, Hermione cleared her throat reaching towards the tray. “Er, Thank you very much… Mr. Holmes.” 

John choked on his tea. “Watson,” “Doctor,” said he and Holmes simultaneously. 

John shot the detective a look. “I mean, Watson is my last name, we’re not a couple.”

Hermione’s face turned bright red, “Oh, I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, Mr. Watson—”

“Doctor.” Holmes interjected.

“It’s alright, it’s a surprisingly common mistake, and you can just call me John.”

“But he’s also—”

“Yes, I’m also a Doctor, thank you, Sherlock, I’m sure they heard you the first time.” John glared at the detective again. 

“Yes, he’s a doctor, a man of science, like myself!” exclaimed Holmes, jumping to his feet. “And therefore, won’t fall for any of your nonsense I am sure your about to prattle on about upon his unwitting insistence that ‘manners’ take priority over practicality!” 

“For goodness sake, just sit down,” sighed Dr. Watson, and Holmes flopped down into his seat once more. “Now, please do tell us why you’ve come around to see us.”

Harry looked to Hermione, but it looked like she was completely lost for words. He supposed it was up to him to speak. He cleared his throat and Doctor Watson’s gaze turned to him expectantly. 

“I- I mean we- have come looking for your help, well, for Mr. Holmes’s help,” Harry stuttered. 

“Most do, I’m just his babysitter,” Dr. Watson said good naturedly.

Harry smiled nervously in response, “and these are my friends, Ron and Hermione, my name is Harry, Harry Potter.”

Sherlock Holmes made a loud scoffing sound and Watson glared. “Oh, would you like to join the adult conversation we are having? Then maybe you should sit up straight and use your words.”

“You’re not listening to me, Johnnnnnn.”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” snapped Dr. Watson. “Again, so sorry about him,” he apologized. “Please, continue.”

Harry sat flabbergasted, he’d seen a lot of strange things in the wizarding world. I mean, he was good friends with a half-giant and a werewolf, and went to a magic school where he learned about potions and charms, after all. He was used to odd and surprising things, but Sherlock Holmes was a rather startling and unexpectedly strange man. Harry found he wasn’t afraid of him, no, he was instead confused. Very, very confused. And slightly disturbed. 

He was at a loss for words, but luckily for him (or not so lucky) Holmes certainly wasn’t. “Enough of this nonsense!” Holmes bellowed, “Obviously you’re Harry Potter, really, you haven’t even attempted to disguise yourself. For someone who’s the most wanted person in Britain’s underground magic cult that’s rather gutsy. Oh, but you’re the boy who lived! Nothing can touch you! Not even You-Know-Who himself! Even I, I person such as myself, who has rejected all aspects of the wizarding world, knows who you are—hush, John, let me finish,” Holmes spat, ignoring Watson’s attempts to get make him quiet down. 

Holmes stood and marched over to where Harry sat and harry stood as well so that they were face to face. Harry ignored Hermione’s tugging on his arm and glared right back at Holmes, who looked absolutely livid. ‘the man’s crazy,’ harry mussed. ‘completely insane.’

“I also know why you’re here,” Holmes hissed.

“Is that so?” Harry challenged.

“Harry, no,” whispered Hermione.

“You’re here to recruit me in your war. A war I could care less about, fought by idiots with weapons so dangerous they could and will tear the world apart a thousand times over. But your people are too stupid and ignorant to see how truly dangerous and lethal the power you so causally toss about is! I rejected your people and their ways a long time ago, in favor of the real world of science and logic! And nothing you could say to me will ever change my mind, Mr. Potter.”

Harry could have hit him then, punched him square in the jaw. He could have wiped out his wand and blasted him against that fireplace. How dare this man, this Sherlock Holmes, say those things. They were at war, and this selfish, cowardly wizard simply hid himself behind this muggle façade. He didn’t care if Voldemort won. He didn’t care in the slightest.

Not taking his eyes off Holmes, Harry stepped back. This man wasn’t worth his time. “Let’s go,” he muttered to Ron and Hermione. “Thank you for your hospitality, Dr. Watson.” Harry then turned promptly making his way to the door.

“Are you serious?”

Harry turned back around to see Ron still standing with the tea cup in hand. He was talking to Holmes. Ron placed the cup back in it’s saucer, still looking at Holmes accusingly. “I can’t believe you!”

“Ron, he’s not—”

“There’s a war going on! A bloody war! And you don’t care!?!”

Hermione tried pleadingly, “Ron don’t—” 

Ron held up a hand to silence her.

“People are dying! Innocent people! They are laying down and fighting for their lives and you don’t care?” Ron was indignant, his face tuning red in anger. “People are out their suffering at the hands of a-a terrorist, dictator guy and you are just content to sit and watch?!”

“It’s not my war and it’s not my fight,” snapped Holmes. 

“It is your fight, it’s everyone’s fight! You think once the war is done he’ll leave you and the muggles alone? No! After the muggle-borns it’ll be the witches and wizards who didn’t fight for him, and then the muggles themselves. He won’t stop, once he’s taken over the wizarding world he’s take over yours too!”

“Of course I know that!” Holmes countered. “The wizarding world is falling apart, it’s unstable, unreliable, it’s a ticking bomb and no one knows how much time is left until it blows. The end is inevitable, you’ll tear yourself apart with your own power. Very soon you won’t be able to conceal your ‘magic’ from muggles and once that happens, it will be another war. People fight over power, and once they know the source of power sitting right amongst them they’ll fight for it. There will be outrage, the government will be thrown into disarray trying to sort out what to do about this concealed power that has the instant ability to do almost limitless things. So why not let you fight amongst yourselves until that time comes? Let it weaken you, before we have to fight you ourselves. It’s called strategy.”

“Excuse me, but what it the world are you talking about?” Watson looked thoroughly confused.

“Does he not know?” Harry looked at Hermione.

“Harry, he’s a muggle, of course he doesn’t know,” Hermione whispered.

“Don’t know what? Sherlock, what’s this about a secret war?” 

“It’s nothing, John, be quiet,” said Holmes hastily.

“If you don’t want to help us, that’s fine!” Ron continued. “But just know that there are people dying and suffering as we speak. Families are being ripped apart and broken, and it wouldn’t be that way if people had the common decency to stand up for what’s good and just! Say what you want about wizards, but there are good ones, and we are standing up for the muggles and muggle-borns. Harry Potter is the one chance we got and the only hope we have!” Ron paused to catch his breath. “I suppose the papers were wrong about you… you haven’t got an ounce of human compassion in you, have you? Sorry to waste your time, Mr. Holmes.”

And with that, Ron turned and joined Harry and Hermione where they were frozen at the door. “Let’s get out of here.” 

As the door to the flat shut behind them, Harry could faintly hear the sound of Dr. Watson’s voice inside, probably yelling, again.

A tense silence hung in the air around them as they made their way down the stairs. “Ron…” Harry said.

“Look, Mate, I’m sorry about what happened up there, it was way out of line and I—”

“No,” Harry interrupted. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“…Oh.” Harry could tell even in the dim light of the hall that his friend was blushing, and his ears going red. “No problem, then.”

“This was my horrible idea, I’m sorry,” said Hermione. 

“No, it was a good idea, it just didn’t work out like we thought it would,” Harry assured her. “Let’s get back to camp before this storm gets worse.”

Just as Harry reached for the door handle there came a rather loud thudding from above them on the stairs. He whirled around, drawing his wand as he did so. Only to see the haggard form of Sherlock Holmes standing up on the landing. “I’ll take it,” said Holmes firmly.

“Excuse me?” asked Harry, bewildered.

“Your case,” said Holmes. “I have changed my mind. I’ll take it.”

Harry looked to Hermione and Ron, stunned. 

“Well, don’t just stand there!” snapped Holmes. “Do you want your case solved or not? Now get up here before I change my mind again!”

Both Ron and Hermione only shrugged, just as confused by this wizard as he was. Well, Harry supposed, he really didn’t know what to expect when it came Sherlock Holmes, and working with him was certain to be just as strange and confusing as the detective himself.  
…

**Author's Note:**

> This is only a one shot and rather silly, but I had a lot of fun writing it! Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos appreciated


End file.
